


In the Wee Hours of the Morning

by unspecified (modernscience)



Series: Meandering through (until I find you) [3]
Category: Fashion Model RPF, Karlie Kloss - Fandom, Kaylor - Fandom, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 01:27:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6218215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernscience/pseuds/unspecified
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[AU] Jet lagged supermodel Karlie goes to visit her favorite baker/barista Taylor. Baking ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Wee Hours of the Morning

Jet lag is a bitch.

 

It usually isn’t like this; a quick 10-minute workout and Melatonin would do the trick and you would be asleep within minutes. The routine has never failed, _ever_ , and you take pride in knowing that you have the perfect recipe to beat it fair and square.

 

You toss and turn in your bed, trying to find a cool spot as you quiet your mind. It's been two days since your last trip abroad and just like the other night, sleep is beginning to look like an elusive mistress; lingering around yet refuses to indulge you no matter how many times you plead. Your eyelids are heavy as they come and you can feel every muscle in your body begging your mind to surrender, but…

 

_Fuck._

 

The clock is glaring at you, the soft blue hue that's supposed to be soothing now looks more like a taunt than anything else.

3:17 am 3:17 am 3:17 am

 

There’s no point in even trying to close your eyes - your tiredness has now thoroughly been replaced with annoyance- you have to be up in three hours to do a shoot in the city before you’re off to Paris for fashion week, so you quickly change into your T-shirt and jeans, grab your bag, and head out the door.

 

* * *

 

The visitor chime on the door was loud enough in this early hours of the morning to startle both you and the person who’s standing behind the counter, clearing the coffee cup from the last customer. She greets you with a smile; warm and familiar and welcoming. You feel your exhaustion drops as you greet her back with a wave, though this could do with the warm smell of fresh coffee more than anything else.

 

"I thought you won't be coming back until next week."

 

"Sorry to disappoint."

 

"Yeah. I was hoping I could do without seeing your face for a while." Her smirk drops when she has a closer look, instantaneously replaced by a worried look. "Insomnia?"

 

“Jet lag.”

 

“Oof. That’s rough. What can I get you?”

 

Above you, rows of blackboard filled with endless variation of coffees. You caught a glimpse of the word Cappuccino and decide that it would have to do. “Can I have a muffin, too?” It probably doesn't taste so good after it's been sitting in the display case for a while, but that's the least of your concern. If you’re going to be here until duty calls (which you will, you’ve just decided), you might as well get something to fill your stomach.

 

She hesitates before ducking down to grab a plate. “If you want to wait, like, 30 minutes, I can whip up a brand new batch of raspberry scones?"

 

“That’s okay, I don’t wanna…”

 

“No trouble at all, I’m about to make some new ones anyway.”

 

She smiles at you again before walking off to the kitchen and _damn it_ if that’s not the prettiest smile you’ve seen in a long long while. There's a reason why you like this place so much, and that reason is whizzing back and forth between the kitchen and the coffee machine, making your drink and prepping to bake some scones.

 

* * *

 

"Now you have to knead it, but not too hard, okay? Don't want the dough to be chewy."

 

"Why's that?"

 

"Well scones are supposed to be light and flaky, if you overwork the gluten you'll str--"

 

"Okay okay," you lift your hands from the lump of flour and butter in a surrender pose. "Minimal force, got it."

 

She asked if you wanted to see her make the scones and you said yes.

She asked if you wanted to try and you said yes.

 

"Much better than just waiting in your seat, isn't it?"

 

All you can think about is how pretty she looks in her white apron, and how smitten you are.

"Yeah, absolutely. This is fun."

 

* * *

 

You end up sitting on the corner of the café, hunched together sharing a couple of freshly baked treats, conversation flows easily like a steady stream that always seems to replenish itself. You learn more about her - her passion of baking, her culinary school years, her desire to have her own shop - every bit as fascinating as the other. She oohs and aahs when you tell stories about your travel, listens intently about your recent heartbreak, and looks at you like you are the sun the moon the whole constellation known to man.

 

* * *

 

You apologize for having to dash out, but she waved it off and wished you good luck on your shoot. Before you walk out the door, you take one last look at her.

 

"Don't be a stranger."

 

She winks, and you think it’s better than caffeine.

 

* * *

 

You shift your grip on your paper mug and only then you realized she's written her phone number on it.

 

* * *

 

_Hey. It’s Karlie._

 

**_Hey Stranger. Took you long enough._ **

 

_It’s only been four hours._

 

**_That’s quite long in my book ;)_ **

 

_Is it? Well let me make it up to you._

 

**_You have my attention._ **

 

_Dinner next weekend? Unless you want to fly to Paris, in which case we can have lunch tomorrow._

 

**_I’m afraid I’m all tied-up for the impromptu lunch thing, but I’ll take you up on that dinner._ **

 

_It’s a date._

 

* * *

 

During a panel talk, the moderator asks you and the other models on how to deal with constant travel and changing sleep patterns. You try to hide your smile behind the microphone, your mind wanders back to a full on flour fight in the kitchen a couple of nights ago. The cinnamon roll had turned out fairly decent - both of you sprawled lazily against the kitchen counter, picking them apart from the tray and exchanging kisses between bites. She suggested making a blanket fort but both of you ended up sleeping on the couch in the living room somewhere along the process. The jet lags hasn't won ever since.

 

“Karlie? What about you?”

 

 _“_ My girlfriend and I would bake.”


End file.
